Scott Sidle and the White Strangler: Revised
by FotoBridgeT2
Summary: I've fixed this story and finished it, changing it to a oneshot. Sara's brother comes back to town-how does she deal with it? Post Living Doll


(_ok, it's been a YEAR since I worked on this fic, and I want to apologize for that. All I can say is that I got fed up with last season's writers, and the way they handled some things, so I took a LONG hiatus from CSI Vegas. In fact, I moved to the New York world—and have several fics over there. Now I am back to CSI, as well as rabidly obsessed with Criminal Minds. I have several fics over there, and am giving Scott Sidle his own team of profilers! This story originally was going to be a case fic, but I don't remember what I planned to do with my characters—so the ending changed to a bro/sis relationship peace. But never fear, Scott is currently helping out our Superhero Profilers over in the CM universe. I do plan to give him some more stories in BOTH CSI and CM worlds—if people are interested! _

_I also edited this piece, and made it into a oneshot instead of a chapter fic. For all of those who previously read and reviewed—thank you! For those who want to see more of Sara's brother—he makes an appearance in my story "Hope" in CM. And once that story is finished he will be an integral part of a LONG story featuring other CM characters and probably Sara and Grissom! Thanks)_

SCOTT SIDLE AND THE WHITE STRANGLER

Scott Sidle looked up at the sound of raised voices just outside the large conference room in the belly of the Las Vegas Crime Lab. He and eight other members of a joint task force—police officers and FBI—were waiting for the crime scene investigators to arrive.

"Grissom! I've been in this lab for two weeks now! I'm perfectly fine, I don't need a baby sitter! Call Greg off, now!" An exasperated female voice rang out.

"Until you've been cleared by your physician, you're lab bound. Or until Doc Robbins says a return to the field is appropriate." A male voice replied, his tone only slightly raised. Scott assumed it was this Grissom speaking. Grissom was the man they were waiting on, a premiere forensic entomologist whose works were well known at Quantico. Scott assumed the female to be a member of his team.

"You mean when _you _deem it appropriate, don't you!" The woman was nearly shouting and Scott winced—if one of his subordinates spoke to him that way, they'd have hell to pay. Other, softer voices were heard, urging the pair to lower their voices.

"Sara—you know how I feel about this. Now, we have a meeting…"

"Fine. But this discussion is not over!" The sound of a door opening had all heads turning in that direction. A group of four men and two women entered, Scott guessed the older, slightly flushed man to be Dr. Grissom, but he didn't have the identities of the others in the group.

One was a strawberry blonde woman, pretty, chic, a little older than the others in her party. The younger woman walked agitatedly between the two, her arm in a sling and plaster cast. This must be the arguing subordinate. To the left was a younger guy with messy hair, 

taller than the rest, and lanky. He seemed to radiate movement. Two guys, one dark skinned with an afro, and the other dark headed and lantern-jawed brought up the rear. _These were the infamous CSIs of Las Vegas? _

To Scott they looked like an uncoordinated group of misfits. The six took their seats beside one another, the older man beside the younger woman, the jittery guy on her other side. Dr. Grissom turned toward the front of the room, to the man at the head of the table.

"Ecklie? Would you like to fill us in on what's going on?"

"Just a moment, we're waiting on the sheriff and Brass and Curtis."

"Great. Maybe _Jim_ can talk some sense into _someone!"_

"Sara!" Grissom and Ecklie both spoke, sending glares in her direction.

"Sara, until you're cleared, you're on restrictions—you know it's policy, even for you. I promise as soon as you're cleared by the doctor, you'll be allowed back in the field. Now, I suggest you remember that Grissom is still you're supervisor." Ecklie smirked at her.

"I thought Catherine was now my supervisor?" Sara asked, motioning to the other woman. "And _she _agrees with me."

"Yes, but Grissom's decision is the final one as he's _her _supervisor." Ecklie stated as the door opened and three more people entered, a blonde woman and two older men. One of the men went to join Ecklie at the podium while the other two new arrivals took chairs.

"What's this about?" the blonde woman asked in a thick Jersey accent.

"A serial killer has come to Vegas." The sheriff began. "We're all going to work together to stop him. But first why don't you all introduce yourselves. Grissom?"

"Of course. I'm Dr. Gil Grissom, and this is my team. Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, and of course, Sara Sidle." The entomologist indicated each person as he introduced them. At the last introduction, Scott jerked his head around and studied the dark headed woman. _Was it possible? Could this be _his _Sara? _

The age would be about right, and the coloring was certainly similar. But it had been twenty-four years since he'd seen her, she'd been no more than nine when she'd been taken to foster care. If it was her, would she even remember him?

"I'm Detective Curtis and this is my sometimes partner, Captain Jim Brass." The blonde woman spoke, motioning to the bulldoggish man beside her.

Scott stood and faced the Las Vegas team. "This is Dr. Eddie Bellows, Special Agents Reice Ramierez, Tony Jacobs, Beth Lordes, Hector Thoms, Jason Lynd, Tabitha Johnson, and I'm Supervisory Special Agent in Charge, Scott Sidle."

He looked directly at the dark-headed woman, seeing her dark eyes widen. The eyes that were so much like his own. "Hi, Sis."

Everyone in the conference room turned toward Sara, judging her reaction. Most of her team hadn't even known she had a brother—it wasn't something she'd broadcasted. They'd just assumed she was an only child.

Grissom snaked an arm around her and pulled her subtly closer, offering his support wordlessly. He knew how mention of her family upset her.

"Hello, Scott." Sara murmured, hoping the man would just sit down so the meeting would continue. He looked so much like their father, she had to fight the urge to jump up and vomit.

"Anyway…" The sheriff broke in, clueless to the undercurrents running through half the members of the table. Scott's team were just as surprised as the Vegas natives. Their fierce leader never mentioned a family, other than to say he didn't have one. So who was this girl?

Sara couldn't focus on the rest of the sheriff's words, gaining only bits and pieces of his conversation. She clung tightly to the hand resting in her lap under the table, squeezing Grissom's strong, warm, safe, fingers. Greg had a hand resting on the back of her chair, and she knew he meant it as supportive though to the casual observer it most likely appeared thoughtless. Catherine kept trying to catch her eye, asking silently if she was ok. Sara nodded minutely, but she knew Catherine would be grilling her later.

Soon the meeting was adjourned and Sara hurried to her feet. Her injuries hadn't fully healed and she still felt a bit of pain. She hadn't told anyone though—they'd been coddling her incessantly. The only one who'd given her any space was Catherine. She'd seemed to understand that Sara just wanted things to return to normal as quickly as possible.

Grissom was the worst, of course; the guilt he felt was evident every time she looked at him. She'd tried to tell him it wasn't his fault. If anything—it was hers. She'd known better than to walk across an empty parking lot alone. But if she could move passed Natalie Davis—why couldn't the guys? Greg stuck to her like glue—even in the lab. Nick and Warrick always had one eye on her whenever they were around. And Grissom was treating her like class. It had been two weeks since she'd been rescued, and she was _fine. _She'd been back in the lab, stuck on paperwork and cold cases. Now she 

wanted back out there. She needed to be back out there. Prove to herself that she could still do it.

And now this. She hadn't seen Scott since the night their mother had murdered their father. He'd been seventeen, she'd been nine. He'd disappeared, and all she could think about was where was he? She'd missed him so much. But that had been twenty four years ago. She definitely didn't need him now.

She was so tired, and had one goal—finding the break room couch. She passed Nick and Warrick, not bothering to look back at _him. _Grissom was speaking with him and the Sheriff and Ecklie, with Jim and Sofia hovering nearby. Sara didn't care. She was going to sleep this off, and hopefully when she woke it would be just another dream.

Scott watched her out of the corner of his eyes, seeing her hurried rush to the door. The sheriff caught him as he passed on his way after her and Scott found himself forced to discuss the case with the man. Dr. Grissom also exhibited signs of annoyance, obviously wanting the leave the room. Scott couldn't quite get a handle on the older man.

Grissom interrupted the sheriff for a moment. "Excuse me, this will only take a second."

He motioned to Greg. "Greg, Sara. Stay with her until I get there. Understand? And don't ask her any questions and don't let anyone else. Got it? I'll be there shortly."

"Yes sir. No one is to bother Sara. Got that." He started towards the door, "Uh, boss—what if she gets mad at me?"

"Greg, she probably will. Just don't take it personally." The older man shrugged. "I'll sort her out later."

"Yeah…after she kills me. And you know, she'd be the very best person to hide the body."

"Ah, but Greg, don't forget that I know how she thinks. I'd be able to find your body, so don't worry. Now go."

"Yes, sir!"

"Gil? Care to explain?" The sheriff wasn't a deliberately dense man, but he was often so removed from the inner workings of the crime lab that he often missed things.

"Sara is still recovering from her ordeal, Sheriff." Ecklie started, "Grissom's just a little over-protective. I still think she should be on leave or permanently assigned to the lab."

"Ecklie, we've already discussed this. Sara stays with my team." Grissom's voice rumbled, a hint of steel running beneath it.

Scott followed the discussion with interest. Just what was going on in Sara's life? What had happened to her? Did he really even have the right to ask?

Grissom and the rest of his team exited after giving Scott and his team strange looks, filled with curiosity and warnings.

Soon it was just Scott and his team. They sat back down at the table before Tabitha broke the silence. "So a sister, huh?"

"She's pretty." Hector said. "What, about ten years or so younger than you?"

"Something like that." Scott didn't really feel like saying anything else. "We lost touch over twenty years ago. Wasn't even sure she was still alive. She was a good kid. Smart, quiet. Never caused any trouble."

"They're certainly close. They're team, I mean." Beth said softly, pushing her blonde hair behind one ear. "They really care about her."

"Yes. That's good, I suppose." Scott said, "We should probably get to work. Come on."

SARASIDLESARASIDLESARASIDLE

Greg found Sara asleep in the break room, stretched out on the couch, one arm thrown over her eyes. He didn't wake her, just pulled a chair up beside and sat, a spiky-headed guard dog.

Catherine soon joined him, pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table. "So Sara has a brother."

"Yep. Apparently. Wonder where he's been. He's not listed as her emergency contact. Grissom is, and then me."

"They probably just lost touch. That happens sometimes." Warrick said as he and Nick entered. Nick grabbed a blanket off a shelf and spread it over Sara. They all watched as she _hmmd _and settled deeper into the couch.

"She's looking better, you all think?" Nick asked, watching her worriedly. "Seems back to her old spirits again. Fighting with Grissom and all."

"You know how she is, can't keep her down for very long." Catherine smiled tenderly at the other woman. They'd had their share of disagreements, that's for sure. But when it came down to it, Sara was very much like her little sister. "She'll be ok."

"Yes. She will be." Grissom said from the door. "But for now, let's just let her sleep. The pills make her a little groggy and she definitely could use the rest."

"So Grissom, what did you do to piss her off this evening anyway?" Greg asked, tilting his chair back on it's legs.

"Nothing, Greg. I merely tried to get her to stay home and rest." Grissom poured his own coffee before going over to rest a hip on the couch's arm. "You know how volatile she can be when she's bored."

"You all have got to give the girl some space." Catherine said. "We all know how fiercely independent she is. It can't be easy for everyone to try hemming her in—especially you, Gil."

The four men just looked sheepish.

"We're just concerned." Nick said, "But you're probably right. I would have felt the same way if you'll had grounded me after."

They all knew he was referring to his own kidnapping.

They all turned to Grissom who merely shrugged. "I'll try. I don't know if it's going to happen."

"Just work on it. Don't worry, I'll help you." Catherine stated. "And now, back to the case. A serial killer in Vegas—what are the odds?" The sarcasm dripped off her words.

Nothing was said as the team of FBI agents entered the break room.

Scott eyed the people situated around the room wearily. He'd hoped to find his sister alone so they could have a bit of a talk but no such luck. She was curled up asleep with the rest of her team hovering near by.

The older man was running his fingers absently through her hair, acting as if she hadn't just been yelling at him a few hours ago. And since when did a supervisor touch a subordinate in that manner? What was going on here?

"I've gotten word that it will be at least another three hours before the information we requested arrives by courier." Scott told Grissom. "In the meantime, how about feeling us in about any serial killers you've dealt with here in Las Vegas, any patterns that stand out."

"Three hours won't be long enough." Catherine said, emptying her mug into the sink. "Grissom, you want to begin or should I? Most recent first?"

"You. Catherine. I'd prefer not to speak of _that._" Grissom's mouth twisted and his hand stilled on Sara's hair.

"Most recent serial. Female, late twenties. Name of Natalie Davis. Constructed models of her victims and crime scenes. Exact replicas down to the jewelry of the victims. Arrested May 29 of this year. Used widely varied methods of killing. Only victim to survive—Sara Sidle."

Scott's hand jerked and he spilled coffee down his shirt. "What?"

"Sara was kidnapped by Natalie and left in the dessert to die." Grissom said quietly. "We almost didn't find her in time."

"But why, why Sara?" Scott stepped closer to the sleeping woman, seeing the delicate arches of her brows, her cheekbones. She'd been such a scrawny kid.

"Revenge. We'd managed to track down her foster father. He shot himself trying to protect Natalie." Catherine said, still in the objective voice. "She blamed Grissom, and took Sara to get back at him."

Grissom stood as she was speaking and shifted Sara slightly, before sinking down on the couch behind her, pulling her against his chest. Company policy be damned. She didn't stir, just snuggled into the hollow beneath his chin. Like she'd done it a thousand times before.

Greg jumped up, taking Grissom's place on the couch's arm, and Nick sank down on the other, freeing chairs for the agents. Sofia and Jim entered, Jim to stand beside Greg and Sofia to lean against Nick's hip. Grissom and Sara weren't the only ones to public declare their relationship.

"Before Natalie was…Hayden Michaels. Sara, Greg, and I worked that one." Grissom said, remembering. "Hotel manager, sneaking into flight attendants' rooms, raping and then murdering. Bleached the scene. Barely caught him, Sara managed to trick him into a confession. It wasn't a remarkable case. Before that was the Blue Paint Killer. Or should I say-killers."

"That was a twisted one," A sleepy voice mumbled from the vicinity of Grissom's chest. Sara rose up slightly, looking blearily at the occupants of the room. "What'd I miss?"

"Not much, kiddo." Catherine said.

Greg jumped up and bounded to the coffee machine. He pulled an individual packet of his Blue Hawaiian coffee from his pocket and set about making a mug. He then placed it in Sara's hand. "For you, my sweet. Just the way you like it. So now will you run away with me to a Caribbean island?"

"Thanks, Greg. You are wonderful, you know. And I'll get back to you on the whole island thing." Sara said, sipping slowly, still resting against her supervisor's chest.

"Blue Paint?" Scott asked, not familiar with that particular serial moniker.

"He used blue paint, altered so that it wouldn't dry, on railings. The victim would get paint on their hands, then go to a water fountain to wash it off. While they were distracted they'd grab them. Originally in the nineteen eighties. The first partner was caught, and executed. It was only a couple years ago that the accomplice was apprehended. He was the dominant. But we got him." Grissom gave a quick run-down. Sara swung her legs slowly to the ground, freeing up a third of the couch. Sofia sank down onto the newly vacated seat.

Discussion continued on the various serial killers ending with a quick overview of the Paul Milander case.

"And this guy?" Sara asked, "This so-called White Strangler? Can you run through it again?"

"His choice of victims—female, Caucasian, mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Tall, athletic. All fought back, showed signs of defensive wounds. All stripped and redressed in white dresses. We estimate that the man was 

at least six five, as some of the victims were nearing six feet themselves. They weren't easy kills. As far as we know—there has been at least a dozen victims—including two off-duty police officers."

"Cause of death?" Greg asked, pulling a notebook from his pocket.

"Asphyxia. Simply strangles them until they are gone." Dr. Bellows said. She was a forensic physician for the FBI who was often assigned to Scott's team. Eddie was a beautiful woman, as tall as Sara, with long curly hair the color of fresh honey. She was around Sara's age and had the serious expression of one who'd seen a lot. "Over within five minutes."

"Sexual assault?" Sara asked, her mind working. She continued to ignore the dark eyed man who watched her.

"Severe. No signs of DNA. We figure he targets his victims a few days in advance. Then kills them within ten hours. Bodies are all found within two blocks of elementary schools." Hector Thoms said.

"Strange. Coincidence?" Sara asked again. Rape cases always bothered her and the rest of her team knew it. They didn't want her getting too caught up in this case. They all knew it was going to be a difficult one.

"We don't know yet." Scott said, drawing his sister's eyes back to him. "We haven't been able to link him to any particular school."

Before she could say anything else a knock sounded and Judy from Reception entered, directing a courier to set a large box on the table.

"Shall we?" Grissom asked, indicating the box. Sixteen people peered into the cardboard box as twelve files were withdrawn. They were passed around to various members of the task force who began reading.

"There's really not much to go on, is there?" Catherine said after reading her folder.

"No. Not yet." Scott admitted.

"So how are we gonna find this guy?" Greg asked. "That's a rhetorical question, guys."

"Oh, we'll find him." Sara said, not looking up from her papers, missing the looks exchanged from her team members. "We'll find him."

SCOTTSIDLESCOTTSIDLESCOTTSIDLE

Scott peered in the window of Dr. Grissom's office, seeing the man settled behind his desk. He knocked on the door before entering. "Dr. Grissom, I'd like to talk to you."

"It's just Grissom. No one calls me doctor. And what about? If this is about Sara, I'm afraid there isn't much I'm free to tell you. I won't invade her privacy." Grissom removed his glasses and set them on his desk, looking at the man who favored Sara.

Scott's hair was a shade deeper, his face more squared but their was no denying the relationship created by genetics. It was the eyes that bothered Grissom the most though. They were Sara's eyes, deep, dark, with some of the same sadness.

"I won't ask you anything like that then. Just tell me the truth—is she ok?"

"She's much better than anyone could hope to be when faced with the same obstacles. Your sister is a remarkable woman, and I'm not just saying that because of our personal relationship."

"Good. I often wondered about her, how she was."

"She went to Harvard, then Berkley. She's done well for herself. I'm proud of her. She's achieved a lot, most of it all alone as well." Grissom's tone was serious, and Scott nodded his understanding. He'd always hoped his sister wouldn't have to go through the same loneliness that he had. He'd always told himself she'd found a great family and had a normal life. He'd also always known he was deluding himself. But what was he supposed to do? He was seventeen years old and incapable of supporting a nine year old girl—even if the state would have let him.

"Will she talk to me?" Scott asked, wanting to know her better.

"About the case, about the job, yes. About herself—don't count on it. That's not her way. If you'll excuse me—my team is waiting. This isn't our only case." Grissom stood and motioned Scott to the door.

Sara was in the trace lab, searching for missing reports for Nick's latest trick roll. Restricted to the lab meant she was stuck with everyone's paperwork. Now she didn't mind, having slept off the affects of the hydrocodone she'd taken for pain several hours before work, and was feeling much more alert. She still didn't feel quite up to dealing with her brother so she was doing her best to avoid any of the Feebies wandering the building.

Grissom was holed up in his office doing his own paperwork and everyone else was in the field, so she was haunting the various labs and departments, finishing up all paperwork for everyone's cases so that they could devote all their attention to this so-called White Strangler.

Another serial rapist/killer loose on the streets. Sara never got over what people did to each other—just once she wanted to see something good come out of the job she did. Something besides more death. Of 

course, what did she expect—like Grissom said _they saw people on the worst days of their lives. _

She rounded the corner and headed towards ballistics, Bobby was her last stop before taking the paperwork to the layout room and comparing it to the evidence Nick had collected.

She didn't see Scott until it was too late. She collided with him, nearly knocking them both down. "Excuse me."

"It's ok. I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked softly, one hand resting on her arm. He had some gray running his hair, that was all she could focus on at the moment.

"No, I'm fine." What was she supposed to say to this man? She didn't know him; the day she'd went into the system was the last she ever heard of her brother. He didn't even stick around for their father's funeral. Or their mother's trial. Sara'd had to testify by herself. Scott should have been there. He'd been what they were fighting over anyway.

"So this is what you did with yourself? How did you get into this?" Scott asked awkwardly, blocking her way. "Can we go sit somewhere and talk for a little while?"

"I…about what? What could we possibly say to each other? _Hi, how are you, what have you been doing with yourself since Mom stabbed Dad to death?_ I don't think so, Scott." Sara tried to maneuver around him but with one hand full of reports and another grasping her crutch it wasn't easy.

"Listen, Sara Jane. I know we've not seen each other for years but maybe we can at least try to get to know one another. We're the only family we've got. Doesn't that matter for anything?"

"That's where you're wrong. I have Grissom, and Greg, and Nick, Warrick, and even Catherine." Sara had realized the importance of her friends when trapped under that damned car. She wasn't taking them for granted ever again. But Scott was the last vestige of her childhood, the last remain of who she was before Las Vegas. "Maybe we can get coffee in the morning. Grissom will have to stay to finish paperwork—he always puts it off. There's a diner across the street."

"That would be great." Scott smiled nervously, his own teeth showing a much slighter gap. It was enough though, showing that these two were definitely related. "About eight?"

"Yeah. Just stop by the break room, I'll probably be in there." Sara stumbled over the words. This guy was her brother. So many nights she'd dreamt of him coming and yanking her out of the foster care system. Then she'd hit fourteen, and one night her dreams had changed. She'd stopped wishing for someone to come rescue her and turned to the only way to rescue herself. She'd promised herself she'd never be a victim again.

"Great." He smiled at her again, and turned, clearing the way for her to enter the ballistics lab.

She did, and stopped short just inside the door. Catherine stood beside Bobby and Sara just knew she'd heard her conversation with Scott. "Here anything interesting, Cath?"

"No, didn't hear a thing. Bobby either." Catherine nodded slightly, letting Sara know that the information would remain confidential.

Sara didn't want it getting all over the lab that her mother killed her father. She'd fueled gossip enough over the last couple of months. This was something she didn't want spreading. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"So I hear we've been invaded by the Feebs again." Bobby said. "How long we stuck with them?"

"Until we catch this guy." Sara said, before asking about Nick's ballistics report. "Hopefully this group will be better than Culpepper's group."

"Anything is better than Culpepper." Catherine agreed, remembering the man from several years ago. Bobby went to the back room to run a copy and Catherine turned to Sara. "You ok, with you're brother and all?"

"I don't know. I honestly thought he was probably dead. Almost everyone else in my family is. I haven't seem him in nearly twenty-two years, Cath. What the hell should I say to him?"

"Well—I guess you just say the general things you say when you first meet someone you think you might want to get to know. Ask what he likes, what he's done with his life. That sort of thing." Catherine was dying to know the whole story, but she kept herself from prying. Sara didn't need that. She was a strong, private woman who's life had been bared for the rumor mill, for the whole lab to see. No wonder Sara felt a little off center, was acting a little out of character. Hopefully when Sara returned to the field things would get back to being closer to what they were.

"I guess. Between this and being stuck in the lab, and the guys being so crazy, _I'm _starting to go a little nuts. I just feel like screaming. As loud as I can." Sara sighed angrily, "Of course, if I did Grissom and the guys would pick me up and carry me off to the break room. I'm starting to go a little nuts."

"I know. Just give them time. You really scared them. Guess you've always seemed so indestructible. I mean, Grissom nearly gets blown up 

a couple of times, Nick's whole ordeal, Greg's, and now you being trapped under that damned car. Just give it time."

"Patience is not my strong suit, Catherine. And I hate being coddled." Sara began to pace as much as a woman with a crutch could. "If they keep this up, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to get ugly!"

"Who's ugly?" Sofia asked, popping into the ballistics lab. She and Jim had been ordered to stick close to the Feebies and assist them in any way. That meant they were currently roaming the halls of the lab. "There's definitely some not-ugly Feebies in the building."

"Umm. I didn't really notice, I was a little stoned on Hydrocodone." Sara said, truthfully. Between her pain meds and seeing Scott, she'd paid little attention to the rest of the group.

"Yep. Some definite possibilities." Catherine smirked, laughing softly at Bobby's expression as he returned to the room in time to hear the last of their conversation. "So this won't be a total drag. In fact, you two want to go do some observations?"

"Certainly. Purely in the name of science of course." Sofia's accent thickened with her humor. "Nothing else to do around here until more information arrives."

"Shall we?" Catherine motioned to the door, leaving Bobby in piece. He sighed, relieved—sometimes the women on night shift scared him.

Sara was glad to see Catherine regaining some of her former self, after the whole Keppler ordeal—reverse forensics and then him dying—Catherine had lost some of her old fire. But she still didn't really want to go check out the Feebies. What she wanted was for Grissom to stop thinking she was fragile and to lose the sudden fear of hurting her. She was not a weak woman, and she needed him to know that.

Grissom and Nick stared at the women coming up the hallway.. They were laughing and talking and it warmed Grissom to see Sara and Catherine getting along so well, and to see hints of their former selves starting to pop through. It had been a hell of a year for them both—and a good deal of it was his fault. He knew it, and he'd quietly vowed to make it up to them.

He gazed at Sara, taking in the tightness of her mouth and the anxiety in her eyes, even though she was currently laughing at something Sofia said. She was tired, upset, and in pain. But he knew better than to mention it. She'd just get angry if he did. He knew Catherine had been right, earlier, telling him to back off. All of them, really. But it was hard.

Every time he blinked he saw that damned miniature with her under a car. And every time he slept he remembered her in the hospital, bruised and battered, facing possible surgery to remove her spleen. He knew she got impatient with herself, got bored stuck in the lab. But just a little longer, then he'd start taking her out in the field again.

"Sara?" He called, catching her attention. "Have you eaten dinner, yet?"

She shook her head and came to a stop just beside him. Catherine and Sofia continued down the hall. "You?"

"No. Was just ready to order in. Chinese. You want some low mein and some veggie egg rolls?"

"Sounds wonderful. Can you add a side of Tylenol to that?"

"Hurting badly?" He asked near her ear.

"A little, nothing major. Just need to rest." Sara had to be truthful with him, they'd both made an effort not to hide their feelings any more. It wasn't always easy. "I'm going to take some Tylenol and rest a bit."

"Ok, honey. Why don't you do that, and I'll bring dinner in when it arrives." Grissom stroked her arm lightly, fingers running over the smattering of freckles. "You ok with your brother?"

"It's awkward. Other than that, I'm not sure how I am supposed to feel. He wants to have coffee after shift, and I told him I would. You want to pick me up at the diner when you finish your paperwork?"

"If you're sure that's what you want to do. You don't have to talk to him, you know. We can keep things strictly professional." Grissom wasn't sure how he felt about the younger man. Was it possible he was thinking of himself? Afraid that with a family member around to depend on she wouldn't need him? "It's up to you. I'll see that he respects whatever decision you make."

"Thanks, Griss. But I think I need to resolve this. I need to deal with this. Scott is a part of it."

SCOTTSIDLESARASIDLESCOTTSIDLESARASIDLE

Scott was inexplicably nervous. What did one say to a sister he'd abandoned years ago? Of course, it wasn't like he could have taken her with him. The army didn't provide for nine year old sisters. And what court in the land would have given a seventeen year old juvenile delinquent custody of a traumatized nine year old girl?

Still, twenty-two years was a long time to not even try to find her.

Would she understand that he just hadn't wanted to disrupt her life any more than it had already been?

The diner was filled with people, but he had no trouble finding his little sister. He slid into the booth opposite her and idly scanned the menu. "So."

"So." Sara echoed. "What happened to you after…well, after Dad died?"

She didn't pull any punches, Scott noticed, and the profiler in him filed that fact away. That and the nervous biting of her bottom lip—she'd done that as a child, too—and the way her hands flitted. He made her nervous, too.

"The only option I had was either foster care until graduation or the army. I chose the army." Scott said. "I'm sorry I left you, Sara. But I didn't see any other choice."

"I can understand that." Sara admitted. "I hated you, you know. For years. But Grissom helped me realize that I had to get past it."

"How long have you been together?" Scott admitted to being curious about the obvious May-December relationship. Gil Grissom was considerably older than his sister.

"Romantically, two years or nine years, according to which of us you ask." Sara's lips quirked. "It took Grissom seven years to make a move."

"Wow." Scott paused. "So are you happy with him?"

"With Grissom—yes." Sara sipped her soda as the food was placed in front of them. "What about you?"

"I'm single—never married. I was in the army for a ten year stint. Then joined the Bureau. Studied profiling. Then was assigned to the Detroit field office. I'm still there. How did you end up in Vegas?"

"Grissom. I'd taken several of his classes in entomology and criminal sciences. We'd grown close, good friends. When he had a CSI die, he brought me in to handle the investigation. Nine years ago. I stayed." She shrugged, as she simplified her and Grissom's convoluted relationship to a few sentences. "I like it here."

"Good." Scott didn't know what else to say. So he waited several moments. "Do you ever see her?"

"No." Sara said, abruptly. "But I know she's in San Francisco. Do you?"

"No. I'm not sure I want to." Scott said, honest. "I thought it was best to just leave it in the past."

"Everything." Sara said, knowing she was included. "I felt the same way."

"I'm sorry. Sara. I should have found some way to stay with you. Take you with me." Scott had always regretted that. Probably always would. But as a profiler he understood why the boy he had been had taken the actions he had.

"I used to watch for you, you know." Sara admitted softly. "Watch and wait for you to come save me. You were always my hero."

"But I never came, because I was just a stupid kid, running as far and as fast from everything I couldn't face. I couldn't disappoint you, Sara. I knew if I stayed you'd be depending on me, and I wasn't sure I could measure up."

"So you ran."

"I ran."

"And I was all alone." Sara said. "Just a kid."

"I was a kid, too." Scott told her. "Dumb and very immature. More concerned with where my next fix might be coming from than anything that was going on at home. I'm sorry."

"You used drugs to escape the house, just like I used books, Scott. I get that." Sara said, sighing. How could she blame him for running when she might very well have done the same thing? "I don't blame you, Scott. But I did miss you."

"I missed you, too."

"But it's been twenty-two years. Where do we go from here?" Sara asked, putting her confusion into words.

"I'd like to get to know you. Keep in touch when this case is over, if that's alright." Scott said, hoping she'd agree.

"I guess I could email or call." Sara said. "If you'll promise to do the same."

"I promise." Scott ate a bit of his hamburger and fries before continuing. "So, tell me about the rest of your team. What is with that kid's hair?"

"That kid is Greg. And he is one of a kind!" Sara laughed as she thought of her friend. As she settled into melding the man in front of her into a friend.

"Tell me about him."

Sara did just that. And as the case progressed, as they got closer to catching the killer, she learned about her brother.And she realized she actually liked him—he wasn't at all like the pot-smoking bad-ass she'd always thought he'd turned out to be.

Maybe there was actually hope that Sara Sidle could be a part of a family.

Maybe.


End file.
